


Coming From Inside the House!

by ryry_peaches



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills [8]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25301740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryry_peaches/pseuds/ryry_peaches
Summary: David gets a surprise.  A good surprise.  The delivery, however, leaves something to be desired.  Alternatively: How David Doesn't Almost Get Murdered In His Sleep.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735951
Comments: 15
Kudos: 152





	Coming From Inside the House!

**Author's Note:**

> @o-cute-o over on tumblr requested the soft prompt, "I missed you." And then I got an idea that was probably only funny in my head, but here it is. Hope y'all enjoy!

There's a man in David's house. He can hear him moving around downstairs.

There's a man in his house and it's three in the morning and Patrick isn't here to protect him, he's away at a Canadian Small Business Bureau convention. For the whole long weekend. So David is going to die alone, probably by way of ax murder or something equally grisly, and he won't even be able to tell his husband he loves him one last time.

David listens to the intruder come up the stairs with a slow, heavy gait and thinks about how he should have let Patrick buy a dog. When they moved into their house and finally had a yard ("finally" was Patrick's word), Patrick had wanted to get a German Shepherd. Apparently he'd had one as a child and they'd been nigh inseparable. If David had only given in and allowed Patrick to bring an animal into their home, the dog could bite the murderer before he got to the bedroom.

The footsteps proceed down the short hallway, and David squeezes his eyes shut and holds his breath and listens to the door open. The hinges have been creaking since the day they moved in; for almost an entire year now David has been meaning to oil them. The slow creak as the door opens a centimeter at a time, as though the intruder is trying to be silent, makes David feel like the victim in a horror movie.

The door creaks back closed, which is just plain unsettling. What kind of ax murderer closes the door first? David dares to crack one eye open — 

The murderer is standing right over David. "I have a weapon!" He scream-lies, using all the breath he's been holding and every ounce of adrenaline in his body to get the words out.

"What the _fuck?!"_ The murderer says, voice as startled as David feels. Except that it's a familiar voice. 

"…Patrick?" David says tentatively into the darkness. "Why are you trying to ax murder me?"

"What?" The lamp on Patrick's bedside table clicks on; David blinks through the yellow rings in his eyes and ascertains that his assailant is, in fact, Patrick. "I'm trying to come to bed!"

David, finally breathing properly again, pauses for a second to ensure that he hasn't pissed himself in fear — all clear, thankfully — and then lifts up onto his elbows so he can scrutinize Patrick with an appropriate level of judgement. "You're supposed to be at a motel in Elm Ridge!"

"The conference was a bust, so I came home early! I missed you!" Patrick is looking at David like he's rabid. 

"You crept up the stairs in the dark! You didn't call!"

"I decided to leave late! I didn't want to wake you!"

Patrick and David stare at each other, at an adrenaline-spiked, incredulous impasse, and finally, Patrick cracks, laughing.

David puts a valiant effort into being offended, because it's just plain rude to scare someone half to death and then laugh at them, but finally he cracks up right back at Patrick — Patrick, who's standing there with his shirt only still on one arm, who decided at what must have been around midnight that he missed David and decided to drive three hours in the middle of the night to be with him.

"I mean," David says, as their laughter softens, "I missed you too?"

"Clearly," Patrick says, "Seeing as how you shrieked like you were being attacked at the mere sight of me." He tugs off his jeans with an undignified little wiggle of his hips, and sits on the edge of the bed in just his boxer-briefs, which have some Doctor Who something on them — because David has married exactly the sort of ridiculous man who buys novelty underwear.

"I did not shriek," David insists. "I have never in my life _shrieked._ I did a very masculine…yell, of, of startlement."

"Okay," Patrick says, completely mocking David's distress. He pulls back his side of the covers and slides in. Then he tries to curl backwards into David, and really, there is a line to how much David is willing to take. He doesn't move from his position propped on his elbows, choosing instead to clear his throat meaningfully. Patrick cranes his neck to look at him. "What?"

"I know that usually I let you be the little spoon when you get back from these trips."

"Because sleeping alone in a strange bed is awful, and I want my husband to hold me," Patrick says defensively, rolling back to look at David properly, brow (such as it is) furrowed.

"Mhmm." David reaches out to brush an errant, slightly greasy curl from Patrick's face. "And I completely sympathize, but usually you don't end these trips by trying to give me a heart attack. I'm still very shaky."

Something in David's face must convince Patrick that he's serious, because his face softens and he reaches for David, cradles his cheek with one broad hand. "I'm really sorry, baby," he says.

"I'm not mad," David rushes to assure him. "It's very sweet of you to have missed me that much that you would drive in the middle of the night, but you did actually give me a scare and I could just…really use being held by you right now."

"Of course," Patrick says. He snuggles down and opens his arms, and David wriggles forward into them, burying his face in Patrick's chest, warm and bare and familiar. He hooks his arms around Patrick's waist, and Patrick drapes a heavy arm over his shoulders.

After a few moments of soaking up the comfort, they have to adjust; David has scrunched himself down to press himself into Patrick, and Patrick has to reach back and turn off his lamp. In the inky darkness, David twists up and rolls backwards against Patrick; he feels Patrick's nose and forehead against the back of his neck. "Hey David?" Patrick says quietly against David's cotton sleep shirt.

"Hmm?"

"When you yelled when I came in, you said — why did you say that you had a weapon?"

"I don't, but, like, a murderer wouldn't know that," David justifies. "I mean, I don't think it makes me look any tougher than I am, but it could at least make me look like more trouble than I'm worth, you know?"

"That almost makes sense," Patrick says, approvingly.

"I learned it from my mom," David says, because he learned everything from his mom — how to dress, how to dance, how to be a big fuckin' drama queen when need be. He feels Patrick nod slowly. "Although, in case a murderer does come in here, maybe we should keep, like, a baseball bat or something."

"Okay, dear." David feels Patrick's smile where he's pressing it into his back.

"This kind of teasing is not a good look for you," David informs him, but he can't help snuggling back a little into Patrick's embrace.

"Hey David?" 

"Mm?"

"I really, really missed you."

David smiles to himself. "I really missed you too."

**Author's Note:**

> and another one done! as always, i can be found on tumblr @loveburnsbrighter 💙


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